Because, often, and now especially, I hear the sound of my own dress like the sound of two powerful wings opening and closing

Vigilant

The poet should be ever

vigilant, be above all tender.

Be willing to always fall from the sky for her,

take care the jazz loosens up his muscles.

He should be ever

vigilant that there’s entertainment to our

heart’s content, that we might mumble

the poet’s verses into a woman’s ear.

He should be ever

vigilant to be weak sometimes.

So than the wind will win against his hearing, whisper

lines to him with which he’ll build a body

around his finger.

For then the poet can say: o, embrace me,

time has yet to pass me by.

Maarten Inghels